


Last Night I Sang to the Monster

by Lady_Vibeke



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e05 Fail Safe, coldatom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 13:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: “You're a good man, Raymond. Don't get your hands dirty with filth like me.”“What's that supposed to mean?”Leonard circled around the chair to face him. When he locked eyes with Ray, his willpower nearly crumbled.“Would you pollute a pure stream of crystal clean water with a barrel of grimy, slimy waste oil?”“No!”Leonard nodded. “Neither would I.” He turned his back to Ray and headed out of the door. “Goodnight, Raymond.”He felt it, now. The ice in his veins. The merciless bite of the cold coating his soul.He had chosen it.  He had chosen to live like this.But it hadn't been there a moment ago.It hadn't been there when he could drink from the warmth of Ray's kind eyes.





	Last Night I Sang to the Monster

“ _The heart can get really cold if all you've known is winter.”_

― Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Last Night I Sang to the Monster

 

*

 

 

Leonard was pacing his room restlessly, trying to decide what to do.

He owed Raymond for what he had done for Mick in the gulag, and he should acknowledge it, because he knew Mick would never do it, and though Ray would probably get all touchy-feely over it, Leonard felt he owed him a thanks, at the very least.

Stupidly noble Ray Palmer had almost got himself killed to spare Mick a damned beating, and maybe Mick could wrap himself in pride and pretend it didn't happen, but Leonard just couldn't.

He hadn't been there for Mick, and he was glad someone had been. Not just someone, but possibly the only person in the team who was selfless and foolish enough to sacrifice himself for a dick like his pal.

With a groan, Leonard decided it would be easier if he just did it without thinking too much. The sooner he would get this off his chest, the better.

He snorted to himself as he strode down the hallway. Who would have thought he still had shards of a conscience.

He entered the medbay expecting to find someone taking care of Ray – the Professor, or Sara, perhaps – but he was alone. Alone, straddling a chair backwards, a bottle of blue antiseptic on the table beside him and a blood-stained cloth in his hand.

“That's one hell of a number those Ruskies did on you.”

Ray's head snapped up.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted. His attempt to smile crumpled into a grimace. His split lips started bleeding.

Ray's face looked as bad as the rest of him. He was shirtless: Leonard could see every single mark that had been lashed into his skin, turning it into a gruesome canvas streaked in gushing red.

“Sorry about that,” Leonard said with a nod at Ray's general condition.

“It's nothing. I've had worse.”

“I'm sure you have. Thanks, by the way.” Right. This was why he came in the first place. “For taking this for Mick.”

Ray let out a feeble sigh. “I was happy to do it.”

Leonard scoffed at his genuine honesty. “That makes you twice as stupid, then.”

Ray blinked at him, unfazed. “Did you come here to thank me or to insult me?”

His right cheekbone was swollen, and purplish brusies surrounded both eyes. How he still looked so handsome, even in such a bad shape, it was a mystery to Leonard.

“Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's,” he retorted, crossing his arms. He leaned with a shoulder against the wall and observed Ray's awkward movements with an odd fascination. “There aren't many people out there who would have done what you did for someone like Mick. But you're one of a kind, aren't you, Raymond? Foolish enough to risk your life for someone who doesn't give a damn about yours.”

He saw Ray's forehead crease. The first real reaction to his deliberate teasing.

“I don't regret it.” Ray stared down at the bloody cloth in his hands, his shoulders hunched as though an invisible weight bunrdened them. “I consider Mick a friend,” he continued, lifting his look on Leonard. “Even if he doesn't consider me one. I don't expect anything back. That's not how feelings work.”

Leonard cast him a derisive sneer. “I don't do feelings.”

He couldn't afford such a trivialities.

There was a monster called _weakness_ caged deep inside his soul, and it feasted on feelings. They made it stronger, fiercer. With time, Leonard had learned to tame it and keep it at bay by starving it: no personal connections, nothing to cherish, to cling to. No strings and no boundaries. Nothing to lose. No one to lose.

He had turned his heart into a polished, sterile box, cold and hostile enough to kill any sentiment that would try to set roots in it, and it had worked just fine, so far.

“Well, I'm sorry for you.”

The way Raymond pitifully looked at him made Leonard feel like he was the one missing out something. Like Leonard was the fool.

“Look at you.” He scanned Ray's body with a mixture of commiseration and contempt. “The Boy Scout through and through. Always so good, always so kind. And look where it got you.”

Ray brought a hand up to his face where Leonard's gaze was fixed: the livid swell of his cheekbone. “You mean these? They'll be gone soon.”

“Of course they will. Wouldn't want that pretty face of yours to be scarred for life, would we?”

“I'm not sure if that was plain mockery or really bad flirting. I'm choosing to opt for the latter.”

Leonard smirked, but didn't deny. Either thing.

A long silence stretched between them. The smell of the antiseptic was pungent and didn't blend well with the iron stench of blood. Leonard's stomach turned; he averted his attention from Raymond's injuries, wondering why they bothered him so much, all of a sudden.

“You were going to leave me behind in there, weren't you?” muttered Ray's low voice after a while.

There was no point in lying.

“Yes, I was.”

Ray nodded. “Must be hard,” he said. “Being so withered inside to be able to abandon a companion and live with that.”

“I'm living with worse than that,” Leonard replied flatly. “You wanna save my rotten soul, Raymond?”

“I said withered, not rotten.” Ray's eyes flickered across his face. Leonard felt inexplicably exposed. “I know you're not a monster.”

“Oh, you couldn't be more wrong.”

Ray shrugged. “I rest my case.”

He was pale, tired. Leonard could have jerked him off that chair and slammed him against the wall, and Ray would have barely been able to fight him.

“Fool,” he hissed, trying to shake that alien thought off his mind. He didn't really want to _hurt_ Ray. Did he?

His pulse had increased. He felt hot around his ears and neck, mouth suddenly dry.

He balled up is hands into tight fists, eyes narrow and set on Raymond to try to decipher what it was that this stupid guy was triggering in him.

The monster in his chest purred.

_Feelings._

Leonard's breath caught in his throat. He straightened up, a heavy frown darkening his face while he glared at Ray as if this was all his fault, as if he had purposedly thrown him a bait Leonard had naively taken.

But this wasn't Ray's fault. It wasn't Ray's fault is he was a pathetic hero with an equally pathetic golden heart. It wasn't Ray's fault if this stupid sunny disposition of him has started melting something inside Leonard.

But it wasn't Leonard's fault, either.

Breathing heavily, he stomped up to Ray's face. He caught a vague glimpse of Ray's bewilderment before he unceremoniously took his head between his hands and yanked it up to plant a rough kiss on his lips.

Leonard moaned despite himself, cursing his own impulsiveness as his tongue hungrily traced Raymond's bottom lip, tasting iron and an undertaste of alcohol. He distantly heard Ray hum in the kiss, felt his hands grip his wrists – to push him away, he thought, but it didn't happen.

Ray kissed him back, pliantly bent his neck to adjust his angle, and when Leonard finally pulled away, he uttered a faint sigh of protest.

It took Leonard a little too much endeavour to let go of Ray's face. He stepped back, panting, waiting for Ray to retaliate, but all Ray did was blink hazily, seemingly as breathless as Leonard himself.

“What was that?”

Leonard sneered through his teeth.

It was nothing. It meant nothing. Leonard didn't even know why he'd done that.

The beast inside him stirred. Leonard's knees trembled.

“Mere scientific curiosity,” he lied, ignoring his heart pounding in his chest. “I was wondering what utter idiocy tasted like.”

Untouched by his malice, Ray shrugged. “What does it taste like?”

Leonard was nowhere near willing to admit it, but it annoyed him that Ray seemed so unaffected by what had just happened.

“Pathetically good, just as one would expect.”

“You could have just asked, you know?” said Ray softly. He didn't sound mad. If anything, he sounded concerned.

“I'm a crook, Raymond,” Leonard reminded him. “I don't _ask_. I steal.”

“Yeah, I guess consent takes all the fun away,” scoffed Ray with a scowl.

Leonard's nostrils flared.

_Consent._

Ray had just blurted it out – casually, innocently – but the term had ignited something within Leonard's chest. The beast – the _monster_ asleep at the bottom of his soul stretched, cracked an eye open, sniffed the air suspiciously. And after such a long time, Leonard suddenly felt it, strong and maddening like he hadn't felt it in ages – the feral urge to fight and smother all human feelings awakening inside him. Before they roused the beast.

“Careful with what you imply.”

“I'm just saying,” Ray politely insisted. “If you'd _asked_ , I would have let you.”

It felt like a cancer in Leonard's bones, this sense of acceptance Raymond was giving him. He hadn't felt it in ages, the memory of it faded and worn by now, but he could still recognise it, and it still freightened him, it still made him feel vulnerable and weak. He didn't want it. He didn't want any of this.

The monster in his chest growled. He cringed.

“Wipe that look off your pretty face,” he spat, bitter venom on his tongue. “I didn't come here to be patronised.”

But Ray – good, old Ray – didn't pick up his provocation. Instead, he returned Leonard's glare with a mild look that made Leonard's blood boil, and not in an unplesant way. “Why did you come, then?”

“To thank you for protecting Mick.”

“Which you did about twenty minutes ago. Not that I mind having you here. You're welcome to stay.”

Leonard realised he had no reason to be still here. Ray was right: he had done what he had come for. Every second he was spending in here after that was an utter waste of his time he couldn't quite justify, not even to himself.

And yet.

Ray grunted. He was struggling to dab the damp cloth over the injuries across his shoulderblades, as if nothing significant had just happened. He was too muscular to reach so far behind his back. It would have been comical, if only Leonard hadn't been so mesmerised by the ripples of Ray's muscles under his battered skin. His gaze ghosted over the purple bruises, the gaping raw flesh glistening in the dim light of the room, and he saw the beauty in it. Some sort of twisted poetry.

“Need some help?” he heard himself mutter, much to his own dismay. He hadn't been aware of those words forming in his mind.

“Would you?” Ray looked at him, his darn Bambi eyes wide and grateful, and all Leonard really wanted to do was punch him. Hard.

But he didn't.

Something in Ray's expression was making him feel uncomfortably unguarded. The kiss had been a terrible idea. Coming here in the first place had been a terrible idea.

“No,” he replied, trying to infuse as much annoyance as possible in his tone. “I just offered to disappoint you.”

Weirdly enough, this elicited a muffled laugh from Ray, who shook his head and resumed his efforts in tending to his own wounds. He looked ridiculous – so big and strong, and yet so clumsy.

Leonard snatched the cloth and sniggered at him. “Give it here. You're embarrassing yourself.”

“Thanks,” Ray mumbled without looking at him.

“Typical Raymond: you insult him, he thanks you,” Leonard drawled as he picked up from where Ray had left off. Ray winced slightly. “Is this hurting you?”

“You mean the disinfectant or your pleasantries?”

A corner of Leonard's lips curled amusedly.

“You're not hurting me,” said Ray, before Leonard could come up with a snarky retort. “You have a very light touch, actually. And your hands are surprisingly warm.”

“Why is that surprising? Thought I had ice in my veins? I'm as human as you are, big boy.”

“I guess you are,” said Ray wistfully.

The damage in his back was serious. Leonard hadn't realised the extent of it until he had been able to take a closer look. It must have hurt like hell. Raymond was soft under many aspects, but the man had remarkable guts, he had to concede that.

“You must have done a damn good job at pissing those bastards.”

Ray huffed a half laugh. “I did my best.”

“I'm sure you did.”Leonard chuckled. Ray acting as a jerk must have been quite a scene to witness. “These are very nasty cuts, Raymond. They're going to scar.”

“Good thing I won't be able to see it, then.”

“Don't worry. I have a feeling it will only add to your charm.”

There was a brief pause, then Ray turned to look at Leonard over his shoulder: “Was that a compliment?”

Leonard stopped his ministrations. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

“Don't get used to it,” he warned.

Ray grinned. “So it was.” He sounded pleasantly surprised. His grin grew wider when he added: “Cool.”

Leonard couldn't help rolling his eyes. “Cold puns? Really, Raymond?” He hoped Ray hadn't noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upward for a split second.

“You like my name?”

“What?”

“You say it a lot. I thought maybe-”

“Don't think too much,” Leonar cut him off. “It makes you see things that are not there.”

“Yeah.” Ray dropped his head with a smile. A blue one, or so Leonard thought. Not that he cared.

“Gideon, can we have dressings for Doctor Palmer's butchered back?”

“On it, Mr Snart,” Gideon replied promptly. In a matter of seconds, a set of fresh bandages materialised on the counter across the room. When Leonard approached to roll them around Ray's torso, Ray gave him an uncertain look.

“You know, you don't have to-”

“I know,” Leonard cut in, sharp as a razor, and Ray feel silent. Finally.

Leonard took his time. His fingers worked over Ray's injuries as delicately as they would have on a particularly complex lock. He smirked smugly at how the hairs on the nape of Ray's neck rose under the brush of Leonard's fingertips down his back, at the goosebumps he spotted all over Ray's arms. He had to pause a couple of times to stop himself from tracing the neat lines of Raymond's muscles. The second time, Ray's hand came up to cup Leonard's over his shoulder.

Leonard flinched at the unexpected contact. He could feel Ray's hot breath on himself, a subtle torture that was slowly wearing out his self control.

His thumb dared the slightest movement – nothing more that a mere brush on the back of Ray's hand. He felt Ray tense.

“Leonard.” There was a hoarse vibe in Ray's voice. He turnes, just enough for his chin to skim Leonard's fingers, and Leonard withdrew his hand like it had been burned.

“Don't test my honorable intentions,” he muttered.

Ray glanced at him from over his shoulder. “What if _my_ intentions weren't honorable?”

Leonard's chest tightened. The monster within it snapped its jaws.

There was no _if._ There couldn't be.

“You're a good man, Raymond. Don't get your hands dirty with filth like me.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Leonard circled around the chair to face him. When he locked eyes with Ray, his willpower nearly crumbled.

“Would you pollute a pure stream of crystal clean water with a barrel of grimy, slimy waste oil?”

“No!”

Leonard nodded. “Neither would I.” He turned his back to Ray and headed out of the door. “Goodnight, Raymond.”

He felt it, now. The ice in his veins. The merciless bite of the cold coating his soul.

He had chosen it. He had chosen to live like this.

But it hadn't been there a moment ago.

It hadn't been there when he could drink from the warmth of Ray's kind eyes.

He flexed his fingers and whimpered. He could still feel the print of Ray's goddamn touch on it.

He stared at his itching empty palm and cursed under his breath.

He had just violated his number one life rule.

_Never feed the beast._

 

*

 

He had been lying in his room for hours, staring at the ceiling like it could give him a satisfying answer, a valid reason why he had done what he had done without considering the consequences.

He closed his eyes, arms bent beneath his head, and sighed. Even though he regretted it, he had enjoyed the kiss, the feeling of Raymond's lips over his own, the fleeting spark of excitement it had lit up in his heart. As good as it had been, though, it had left him empty handed, with a longing he couldn't face, because what he longed for was not compatible with his lifestyle or every choice he had ever made.

But he was still thinking about it, the one thing he couldn't steal, despite wanting to. Something that had been _offered_ to him, laid at his feet on a silver platter, and he had refused, for stupid, noble reasons he that still felt foreign to him.

He was many things, but not a noble man. Someone must be having a positive influence on him, he realised with a snort that was really half a laugh. He hated Raymond for this, except maybe he didn't.

Maybe he didn't hate Raymond at all.

He didn't know why the thought was making him smile.

 _Smile._ Like a fucking schoolboy.

When he heard the knock on the door, he told himself he should have known.

“Of course you couldn't mind your own business,” he said as he opened the door. As expected, Ray was behind it, waiting for him with a lost puppy look that made Leonard's stomach clench.

“What happened before-”

“Was a mistake and will never happen again,” Leonard interjected before Raymond could say something they would both regret.

“It didn't feel like a mistake.”

Raymond looked genuinely hurt. Leonard ignored the pang of guilt that struck him in his sternum. He shouldn't be feeling _guilty_. It wasn't his fault Raymond had started to get ideas about things that could never be. And _this_ – this _hurt_ on his face...

Leonard shook his head in disbelief. “Don't tell me you _care,”_ he snarled derisively. “You can't be that stupid.”

The hurt on Ray's face shifted into sorrow, and Leonard knew that, yes, Raymond was that stupid.

Ray's Adam apple bobbed, his eyes glossy with emotion. “What if I do?”

How such soft words could feel like a puch in the guts, Leonard ignored. He faltered, taken aback by the disarming transparency of this man in front of him; he shivered, then quickly wrapped himself again in his safe cloak of cynicism.

“Raymond, Raymond, Raymond,” he drawled. “Did no one ever tell you that people like me are poison to people like you?”

Ray reminded him of a song he heard once, somewhere, a lifetime ago.

_I would sell my soul for someone pure and true._

He didn't even know who sang it, but it sounded raw and desperate, just as he was feeling right now, staring into Ray's infuriatingly gentle eyes with a knot in his throat he couldn't swallow.

_Someone like you._

Ray's brows furrowed in a stubborn frown. “There's good in you,” he stated, like it was an empirical truth he could scientifically prove. “I know. I can see it, Leonard. I know you'd rather keep on pretending you're this badass selfish villain who only pursues his own petty interest, and it's fine. I get it.” Ray's frown melted away, replaced by a serene indulgence that cut Leonard's breath in his lungs. “But there's more to you than that, whether you like it or not. _I_ like it,” he stressed, if a little shakily, then he screwed his eys shut. “You can punch me, now.”

Leonard tried, tried so hard not to smile, but he was far too gone to even hope it would work.

So he did it. He allowed himself to _smile._

The monster within him roared. It clawed at the frozen bars of his heart. Something warm and thick seeped out of the wounds it tore.

Something bright.

And soothing.

The monster cowered, blinded by the light, and cried in anger.

It couldn't bite Ray Palmer's kindness. It couldn't tear it apart nor rip it off him with poisoned teeth and talons and violence.

The monster watched, paralised, as the warmth spread in Leonard and crept into his darkest corners, bringing light where there had never been any.

It was overwhelming.

And it was terrifying.

“Have some self respect, Raymond. You can do better than a thief,” Leonard said, his voice quivering. So maybe he wanted this. Didn't mean it was the right choice.

_Right._

He was barganing for what was _right_ , now.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Ray stepped closer to him. There was hesitation in the way he took Leonard's hand, like he expected him to jerk away. Leonard wanted to, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Ray smiled tentatively, eyes low.

“You're free to reject me, you know?”

So meek and chaste, like a blushing virgin. Leonard's instinct was to mock him; his body, however, had a different opinion.

Leonard had never been attracted to _good_.

Dangerous.

Reckless.

Mischievous.

This was what pushed Leonard's buttons. But good? This was news.

Leonard felt the dismay the beast in his chest was feeling. He felt its confusion, felt how it couldn't seem to react to this warm flood that was slowly submerging it.

It wasn't just attraction. It wasn't, and Leonard didn't even know how things had escalated so uncontrollably without him even noticing. And now - now it was too late, wasn't it?

 _Good_.

The word, so foreign to him, swirled in his mind, over and over, as Ray's begging eyes scrutinised him closely, waiting for Leonard to break his heart.

But Leonard had already decided, even before this conversation started, that the only heart he would allow to get broken, here, was his own. So he tugged Ray to himself, slung an arm around his waist and squeezed him tight.

“You're the stupid fool, not me,” he muttered upon Ray's lips.

He didn't have the time to even savour that exruciating closeness. Suddenly, Ray's hands were cupping his face and drawing him into a feverish kiss that wiped any thought and reason from Leonard's mind, leaving only fiery, frantic desire.

The wet, sloppy sound of their kissing was inebriating, and more erotic than anything Leonard had ever experienced. The sensation of Ray's fingerstips digging in his flesh, his taste in his mouth – _good, so good,_ the desperate violence with which Leonard's hands were gripping Ray's shirt, as if he could pull him closer than that, _deeper_ , deeper than skin...

His defenses fell, tumbled at his feet in a sorry pile of dust and ashes. Sweet, lovable Raymond. Leonard could only blame himself for falling into such an inescapable trap.

It was too late to run, now.

He didn't even want to.

He was tired of running. And the beast had fallen silent, still, defeated by the warmth and the light Raymond oozed from every pore, straight into Leonard's soul.

When they pulled apart, Leonard was dizzy and simmering with adrenaline and something else. Something he wasn't ready to ackwledge, yet. He was trembling, panting and out of breath, and yet he felt like he was breathing for the first time.

Ray's breath was hot on his face, barely beginning to even out. He was smiling like an idiot.

Leonard sighed, half blissfully, half helplessly. He didn't know how he was going to pull this off without screwing everything up – without hurting this giant, silly puppy in his arms – but he was confident he would figure this out.

They would figure this out.

He nudged the tip of his Ray's nose with his own, brushing a light peck on the corner of his lips. “We're a couple of fools,” he whispered.

Ray closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, leaning his forehead against Leonard's. The stupid grin hadn't faded the slightest. “I guess we are.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally slipped into the Coldatom tag a couple of days ago, and it hit me like a truck. Steelatom is still my OTP, but, hey, Ray is basically the sun on earth and everyone with darkness issues would most definitely be at least a little smitten with the guy, and Len is such a beautiful character (the only one I truly, painfully miss) and I realised there was so much potential in this match. This story wrote itself, like many of my works, and it's probably one of those that touched me most to write, because I know how much Len needs and deserves warmth and light. I guess there's no need to say that, as usual, I poured all my undying love for Ray in this story, and it kind of shows. I'm not even sorry, guys.
> 
> The song Len recalls is Crush by Garbage.
> 
> I'm not sure about the current status of the Coldatom fandom, these days, but I would really love to see what you guys think of this, because I really put my heart in it (bless this show and it's amazing characters) so thank you so much if you're going to leave a comment, even if it's just a handful of words. Still means so much to me.


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